


Break It Down, Break It Out

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Dom!Ian [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, M/M, Rimming, Shibari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 19:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: “Let me tie you up,” Ian says, shutting the fridge and looking back at Mickey.Mickey frowns, an eyebrow crooking up. “What?”“I’m tired of fucking arguing and I’m tired of not feeling anything, so let me tie you up,” Ian says."Thought you weren’t up for sex right now,” Mickey says.“Tying people up isn’t always about sex,” Ian says as he steps closer and backs Mickey up against the counter. “It’s about patience and control, restraint.”Mickey’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips. Ian can see the moment when Mickey realizes what exactly it is Ian’s asking for and why. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Shake It Out by Manchester Orchestra, which I am always gonna see as a Mickey Milkovich song. I'll write a fic from his POV eventually. Comments are loved.

[The tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Ian knows Mickey’s only nagging because he cares, but still, it grates on his nerves. The anger is a nice respite from the numbness, hot like the stove top as it pumps through his veins. He eyes the beers, then his backpack. His collection of rope is coiled in the bottom of it, under books and clothes where he stuffed it when he’d first come home and his siblings had gone through his stuff for anything dangerous. He’s not looking to quiet his brain down, but having the control sounds appealing.

“Let me tie you up,” Ian says, shutting the fridge and looking back at Mickey.

Mickey frowns, an eyebrow crooking up. “What?”

“I’m tired of fucking arguing and I’m tired of not feeling anything, so let me tie you up,” Ian says.

"Thought you weren’t up for sex right now,” Mickey says.

“Tying people up isn’t always about sex,” Ian says as he steps closer and backs Mickey up against the counter. “It’s about patience and control, restraint.”

Mickey’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips. Ian can see the moment when Mickey realizes what exactly it is Ian’s asking for and why. “Okay, fine. Let’s do this.”

 

-.-

 

Ian shuts the bedroom door and then moves Liam’s small book case in front of it just to be on the safe side. Mickey strips and kneels while Ian rummages through his bag to pull out the rope. His collection has grown since the first time he’d tied up his brother. His technique has improved as well, thanks to the few friends he’d met at his old job that weren’t total skeeze-bags. Still, he hasn’t been able to tie anyone he actually likes up since Lip.

He’s not sure Mickey has the same patience as Lip though.

Ian takes a seat in front of Mickey and grabs his right wrist, pulling his hand to rest in his lap. He doesn’t look at Mickey. Part of him is nervous, but he sets the feeling aside. He grabs the first rope out of his pile, a rope of medium thickness in a deep navy blue color. He folds it in half and then starts in on a simple column knot. The blue looks nice on the paleness of Mickey’s skin. The need to cover Mickey in dark designs makes his gut heat for the first time in days.

“New plan,” he says as he finishes off the knot and letting the extra rope dangle. “Stand up.”

Mickey obeys and lets Ian move him so he’s standing under Carl’s bed. Ian guides his tied hand up and loops the spare rope around the slat of wood along the side of the bed before grabbing more rope from his bag. For the first time since they began, Ian looks at Mickey’s face.

“If anything pinches, let me know,” Ian says.

"Got it.”

Ian’s surprised that Mickey doesn’t snark at him, but he’s a little grateful. He leans forward to press his lips to Mickey’s, and he catches Mickey’s free hand in his when Mickey reaches up to cup his face. As he pulls away, Ian starts up an identical single column knot on his wrist. Once that’s done, he ties it to the side of the bed before stepping back and giving Mickey a once over.

He smirks when he sees Mickey’s hard cock. His own pleasure still feels a little distant but seeing how aroused Mickey already is from just two bindings is starting to get him there. After giving Mickey another quick kiss, Ian goes back to dig through his bag. His last piece of rope is a lot longer, long enough that he can spend as much times as he wants making art out of rope on the canvas of Mickey’s chest and back. The work is methodical, bringing focus and clarity after days of slow-moving fog.

Mickey’s back becomes a patchwork of diamonds, rope criss-crossing with intricates knots at each point. Across his chest is a mirror image but without the knots. When Ian is finally done, Mickey’s breath is coming in quick, shallow breaths and when Ian moves to stand in front of him, he sees Mickey’s eyes squeezed shut tight.

“Hey,” Ian says. He cups Mickey’s face in his hands, the touch prompting Mickey to open his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…” Mickey leans forward and Ian lets him, heart pounding a little faster as Mickey gives him a slow and sweet kiss. “It’s like I smoked some good weed or something, I don’t fucking know…”

Ian kisses him again. “It’s called sub-space. Never thought I could actually get someone there.”

His fingers trail down Mickey’s chest, skipping over the rope as he does so. He curls his hand around Mickey’s cock. The noise Mickey makes, breathy and desperate, is so different from the noises he usually makes, and the sound of it goes straight to Ian’s dick. He bites his lip to stifle his own moan, then moves his fingers up to pinch Mickey’s nipples. Mickey’s whole body jerks before he sags into his restraints. Ian twists at the peaked nubs once before releasing them.

Mickey slumps a little too much so Ian braces him with a hand on either side of his torso. He’s not sure if he wants to keep playing with him or fuck him or something else entirely, but he knows he wants to keep going. He feels great, flying high, but without the out of control feeling he’d had for months. Ian settles for pulling away long enough to grab lube and slick his fingers before ducking under the bed and hooking his fingers around one of the knots to hold him steady. Then he pushes two fingers into Mickey’s ass.

Mickey comes up on his toes as his back arches, a string of expletives leaving him in a rush. Ian smirks against the back of Mickey’s neck. He stretches his fingers in between thrusts and in no time at all he’s able to slide in a third. Mickey’s hole tightens and then flutters around his fingers, like his body can’t quite decide what it wants to do. Eventually, like the rest of him, that goes slack too, taking what Ian gives him with ease.

“Good boy,” Ian whispers, lips close to Mickey’s ear. His wrist is starting to cramp a bit, but he pushes through it, fingers pushing hard and fast, finding the rhythm that always makes Mickey beg.

“Jesus, fuck, fuck me Ian, please-“

Ian yanks his fingers out and lets go of the rope, letting Mickey go limp and gasp for a moment before reaching out and helping him steady himself again. He grabs the lube again and slicks his cock. For a moment, he contemplates teasing him a little longer. But that seems cruel, and like it’d be a bit much for their first time doing anything kinky, so instead he slides his cock in until his balls are pressed tight against Mickey’s hole. He hooks his fingers in the ropes and rotates his hips a little before fucking in again.

The noise that comes out of Mickey next is closer to a sob. When Ian pauses, Mickey jerks like he’d hit Ian if he could.

“Don’t you fucking stop,” Mickey says, voice strained, skipping over another sob-like noise.

Ian ducks his head and bites into the meat of Mickey’s shoulder where it meets his neck as he fucks him faster. Mickey lets out a shout of Ian’s name. The rawness of it, the desperation of it, sends Ian tumbling over the edge. The strength of it, the overwhelming pleasure, burns through him and makes every nerves from his cock to his toes and back to his head tingle. He lets himself lean on Mickey for a few moments, breathing him in and catching his breath.

When he pulls out, Mickey lets out a noise like a whimper. Ian squeezes the back of Mickey’s neck before going down on his knees and shoving Mickey’s legs apart and grabbing his ass cheeks to expose his hole. Ian’s come is starting to leak out and it makes something dark and possessive uncurl in his chest. He licks a stripe up his hole before shoving his tongue in. The bed creaks and groans as Mickey lets out a noise closer to a squeal than Ian has ever heard out of him.

Ian hasn’t ever rimmed someone before, has never really wanted to, but seeing himself drip out of Mickey makes it feel like the only option. Mickey’s reaction is more than worth it. His thighs shake and Ian’s name falls from his lips fast and breathy as Ian fucks his tongue in over and over. The come tastes bitter on his tongue. It’s worth it to hear and feel Mickey come undone. By the time Ian’s satisfied, Mickey’s struggling to stand. Ian gets to his feet and hooks his chin over Mickey’s shoulder while wrapping an arm around his waist to hold him steady.

“How do you want to come?” Ian asks. “My hand or my mouth?”

Mickey’s hand lolls back into Ian’s shoulder, sagging back into Ian’s weight. “Whatever just let me come, please…” His voice is hoarse but when Ian shifts enough to get a good look at his face, Mickey looks blissed out.

“Okay, I got you…”

It settles something in Ian’s chest to have Mickey relying on him, needing him for help. He’d been feeling helpless, like everyone around him thought he was fragile and breakable, incapable of the simplest tasks. This was like proving that he was still himself. He was still Ian, just different.

Mickey comes after just a few strokes, biting at Ian’s ear and letting out a long moan through a clenched jaw as he does so. Ian wipes the come off on Mickey’s inner thigh before moving around to his front. Mickey gives him a tiny smile before letting his eyes shut. Ian can’t remember the last time he saw Mickey look this relaxed. He grabs the scissors just in case and then unties the binds holding Mickey to the side of the bed. Mickey falls right into him, arms wrapping loosely around Ian’s waist and clinging to him as he buries his face in Ian’s neck, shoulders hitching.

The splash of warm tears on his neck is a little surprising, but maybe it shouldn’t be. After all, their whole relationship started in the first place because of how depressed Mickey was.

“What the fuck…” Mickey mumbles against his skin.

“It’s a lot of your body to process. Hormones and chemicals and stuff, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind,” Ian says. “Sit down on the bed. I’ll get those knots undone.”

Mickey obeys and Ian sets to work as quickly as possible. Unsurprisingly, Mickey doesn’t make a lot of noise when he cries, just small tears that wipes off every few seconds. Ian pauses every once in a while to sneak a kiss which earns him a half smile every time. When Mickey is finally free, Ian moves the bookshelf and tugs him across the hall to the shower, thanking whichever higher power that exists that they actually have hot water running this week. Under the heat, Mickey seems to come out of the weird silent place he’d gone to. Ian is half done cleaning him up when Mickey grabs the soap from him to wash himself.

“Feeling okay?” Ian asks when Mickey turns back around and hands him the soap.

“Yeah. Like. Really good actually,” Mickey says. “That thing with your tongue at the end…that was good.”

Ian smiles and turns the water off. “Speaking of, I need to use mouthwash, hold on.”

Mickey snorts and follows him out of the shower. Ian swishes the mouthwash around while watching Mickey dry off, letting his gaze trail up and down. He’d kissed Mickey earlier but he kind of wants to spend the rest of the day making out with him. It’s just courtesy to rinse his mouth.

“C’mere,” Mickey says, tossing a dry towel at him before grabbing his wrist and hauling him over.

The kiss Mickey gives him is deep and probing, and while it’s not enough to get Ian hard again, it does make arousal flit around the edges of his mind. It’s comforting, proof that his dick isn’t permanently broken by his meds.

"You should take me back to bed,” Micky murmurs against his lips.

“I can do that.”


End file.
